


Outtake: Connecting the Dots

by juice817, semaphoredrivethru



Series: Past Curfew [16]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-17
Updated: 2011-11-17
Packaged: 2017-10-26 05:15:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/279102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juice817/pseuds/juice817, https://archiveofourown.org/users/semaphoredrivethru/pseuds/semaphoredrivethru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A porny outtake from a few months after the end of "Past Time." Bill gets jealous, Oliver reaps the benefits. There are emotions, too, but mostly smut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Outtake: Connecting the Dots

**Author's Note:**

> Purely self-indulgent. You are welcome.
> 
>  _Originally posted April 18, 2007._

Bill pulled the sheets even, tucking and folding as he made up the bed, his bare feet moving quietly over the smooth wooden planks on the floor of his and Oliver's bedroom. Or, at least it would be their bedroom, once Bill's transfer (which was _finally_ starting to go through) was complete. Bill couldn't help but grin like an idiot as he moved, stepping around a box of books he hadn't gotten around to unpacking the day before when he'd arrived back in London for a week from Egypt; Oliver had found a perfect, snug little flat for them, with just enough room for now that Bill was already thinking about houses and domesticity, despite the fact that they still hadn't gotten around to telling their families yet, much less decided if living in each others' pockets would even work and...

And Bill was being an idiot, a fact he completely knew and accepted. They'd been through worse than squabbling over bills and chores, so this would be fine. They would be fine. Smiling softly as he moved to the other side of the bed and half-listened to Oliver puttering about in the kitchen, Bill tugged on the sheet again, cocking a hip to nudge the bedside table closed. He'd forgotten about that in the heat of the moment earlier, when he'd woken Oliver up with long, hard kisses, firm touches and whispered words that had his young lover gasping and clutching at the sheets before he'd even really broken free of his dreams. Oliver had begged so prettily, wanting Bill to skip his usual long preparation and just use the charm, but Bill just _liked_ working with his hands, always had, even when he and Charlie had been teenagers and sharing a room, taking turns with private time. Charlie, he'd learned then, had been pretty fond of charms, too, always eager to jump into things...

 _Charm? Bill paused, looking up at Oliver through narrowed eyes. "Have you now?" he asked slowly, pulling his finger back and returning with a second, pressing into Oliver more carefully than before, knowing how huge that second finger could feel._

 _"Yeah," Oliver said, and grunted with the stretch as Bill pushed in again. "My old captain taught me a wicked one, does everything at once."_

Bill's hands froze over the bed, his face going still as jealousy snaked through his gut. _Charlie_ had been Oliver's old captain, and there was the fact that Charlie fancied women, of course, but boys would be boys, and Bill'd done some mad things in his time, too. But the thought of anyone touching _his_ Ollie still made Bill growl, low in his chest and dangerous. Now that he'd let himself take what he wanted, allowed himself to _claim_ , Bill was greedy even for their times apart, not that he would say as much to Oliver; kid got too smug as it was, anyhow.

But, really... if Ollie'd messed about with _Charlie_ , of all people, he should have said something.

Growling once more, Bill ran a hand through his hair, tied it back, and stalked down the hall to find Oliver and set a few things straight.

Oliver was making sandwiches for the both of them - so what if it wasn't even ten yet? He'd missed breakfast and had expended one hell of a lot of energy already this morning. He grinned wickedly as he finished and reached for a plate to put them on. The grin widened as he heard Bill coming, and he turned just in time to see Bill come through the door. Oliver's heart stopped. Bill hadn't even finished dressing; his jeans were zipped but not buttoned and he was otherwise bare, and Oliver could hardly breathe, and almost didn't notice the dark expression on Bill's face. Almost.

Food forgotten, Oliver moved to meet Bill, his hands moving to curve around Bill's hips without even a second thought. "Bill? What is it, what's wrong?"

Explanations and words wouldn't be able to really say what it was, Bill knew. This was too visceral, too deep inside of him, and all Bill could think of was stamping himself all over Oliver until Oliver couldn't remember what anyone else had felt like, couldn't even remember that ruddy charm of Charlie's. Cupping the back of Oliver's head in one hand and fisting the other in the soft, faded material of Oliver's t-shirt, Bill hauled him closer, growling as he slanted his mouth over Oliver's. "Mine," he rumbled, fingers clenching in Oliver's hair as he backed Oliver against the counter. " _Fucking mine_."

"Yours," Oliver agreed breathlessly, completely confused and immediately hard. His hands slid up Bill's back and curved around his shoulders from behind. "Only yours." He pressed himself to Bill, hooking one leg around one of Bill's as his bum hit the edge of the counter, kissing Bill back fiercely. "And you're mine."

Arching into Oliver's touch, Bill moaned roughly, and tugged up on Oliver's shirt. "Completely," he muttered in agreement, grinning ferally as he threw Oliver's shirt off to the side. "So fucking gorgeous," he breathed, dragging his mouth down roughly, stubble and teeth scratching the skin of Oliver's neck, mouth working hard to raise a bruise on Oliver's collarbone while his long, clever fingers opened Oliver's jeans.

Oliver moaned and arched his neck, his head hitting the cabinet door with a soft thunk. He wanted to ask what had happened between his shower and making the sandwiches to unsettle Bill so much but he couldn't quite find the words for the need roaring through him. Would this ever ease with the years, or would he always lose his mind completely as soon as Bill touched him? "Fuck me," Oliver whispered. "God, please fuck me."

"So very hard," Bill promised, growling in pleasure at how Oliver fell apart in his arms. Hand tight around Oliver's cock, Bill stroked him, _hard_ and rough, every last bit of him thrumming with dark and primal urges. "Gonna make you scream, Ollie. Gonna make you forget everything but my fucking name, because you're fucking _mine_. No one else can touch you. Mine." He lost track of what he was saying, growling against Oliver's skin as he spun them around and slammed Oliver's bare back against the refrigerator, grinding their hips together, hands on Oliver's waist and fingers damn near bruising.

"Scream," Oliver agreed mindlessly. God. Bill was _growling_ and moving hard against him and Oliver couldn't fucking _breathe_. " _Bill_." Oliver reached up to tangle his fingers in Bill's hair, pulling it partly out the tie holding it back. "Kiss me," he said, and tugged at Bill, wanting his mouth, his taste.

"Fuck me."

Bill's eyes crossed as he closed them, covering Oliver's mouth again, sliding his tongue into his lover's mouth, tasting and growling and marking. He pulled back only enough to bite, not nibble, at Oliver's kiss-swollen lips, and then dove back in again with a rough noise. He could scarcely keep his hands off Oliver normally, but now there was no stopping him, and a faint part of Bill that was the last of his rational thought, giddily pointed out it was a good thing Oliver was so beautifully responsive. Then his jealousy kicked back in again, and Bill pushed harder as he wondered who else had ever felt Oliver break like this. Had that kid he'd dated? Charlie?

Snarling in impatience, Bill shoved at Oliver's jeans, pushing the soft and fraying material down his legs to pool about his ankles, and then attacked his own flies, freeing himself to grind against Oliver again, lifting the younger man up by his arse and onto his toes so they lined up perfectly. Fingers digging harshly, Bill lifted his mouth and dragged in a ragged lungful of air, looking down at Oliver's dazed face with his own wild eyes and huge pupils. "So gorgeous, Ollie" he groaned, rocking hard again and again.

"Inside," Oliver begged, eyes focused desperately on Bill's face. "Want you inside, want to, god, want to come. On your cock." He leaned up to press his mouth to Bill's again. Lifting one foot free of the denim, Oliver wrapped his leg around Bill's waist and rocked back into Bill.

Bill gasped and shuddered just once, and whispered that fucking charm against Oliver's lips, concentrating so the magic was only _just barely_ enough. "Make you feel so good, baby," he promised in a dark voice, lifting Oliver even more, pushing him back against the refrigerator and angling himself to push up and in, pulling Oliver down and growling as his cock was squeezed hard and deep, and _fuck_ Oliver was so goddamn _tight_. "Okay?" he gasped, mouthing over to Oliver's ear, voice breaking even as he sunk deep, deeper, _all the way in_.

"Good," Oliver moaned, "always so good, so good." Oliver lifted his other leg around Bill's waist and made an indefinable sound of need as Bill sank impossibly deeper. He pulled a hand free, pulling Bill's hair loose in the process, and curled his fingers around one thick bicep. Oliver bit his lip and groaned, then dropped his head to Bill's shoulder and sank his teeth into the freckled skin.

"Fuck!" Bill shouted, thrusting up harder when Oliver bit him, the sting turning to molten lava in his veins, pushing him harder. "Go on and mark me, baby," he growled, taking up a hard rhythm. "Mark me. Yours."

Oliver growled back, scraping his teeth from shoulder to neck before biting there, where the smooth length of throat began to curve. He sucked, bit again, soothed with his tongue. He kept worrying at it until the shove in and out became too much and Oliver cried out, body arching as his head fell back against the icebox. "Harder," Oliver rasped, "harder, faster, _make me come._ "

Sweat ran down the centre of Bill's back, over his freckled skin while strong muscles bunched and flexed beneath. His hair was clinging to the sides of his face and his neck, and Bill could feel gooseflesh prickling all over his body. Mouth seeking, Bill kissed Oliver again, this time more sharing breath than anything else, and whispered, ragged and raw and _naked_ , "Love you so much, Ollie."

" _Bill!_ " Oliver's breath caught as his body seized, the words that were still so new and so precious shoving him up and over the edge faster than even Bill's hands on his body. "Love you," he said hoarsely, nearly sobbing as he spilled between them, muscles clenching on Bill's cock. "Loveyouloveyouloveyou."

When Oliver squeezed on him, it yanked the orgasm out of Bill, and he shook again, pushing in deep as he spilled, filling Oliver with hot, long pulses. " _God_ ," he whimpered, forehead crinkling and mouth falling open helplessly. "God, Ollie..."

"Bill," Oliver said again. He kissed a path across Bill's cheek to his ear and wrapped both arms around Bill's shoulders, holding tight, burying his face in Bill's throat as he fought the tears that were coming out of nowhere. It just felt so fucking _good_ , and Bill was really _his_. "Mine," Oliver murmured, grinning as his mood stabilised and the lump in his throat went away. He tightened arms and legs around Bill. "All mine. Mine, mine, mine." He laughed.

"Mmm..." Bill hummed in agreement, and reached down with both hands to cup Oliver's arse as he backed up and made a slow path back to the bedroom, his jeans tight around his thighs making it difficult but not impossible. Once back in the bedroom, Bill remembered what had set him off in the first place, and as he laid Oliver out across the bed, Bill kissed down his throat, down his sternum, hands petting and stroking Oliver's sides. Bill couldn't go again, not for a while, but he could still touch, still please Oliver, still spend as much time as possible putting his mark on Oliver's heart and soul until there wasn't room for anyone else to even try. "Mine," he said, voice darkly determined. " _Mine_."

"Yours," Oliver agreed lazily. His hands tangled in Bill's hair again and he tugged. Waiting until Bill's eyes met his, Oliver said quietly, "Was there any doubt?"

Looking into Oliver's eyes, Bill felt like seven kinds of a jackass. Nothing else from before honestly mattered now, he knew. And Oliver had never wanted to belong to anyone else, anyhow. Bill sighed and blushed, curling over Oliver and pressing his face against Oliver's neck. "The charm," he muttered, hoping Oliver would understand without his having to spell it out. "The one your old captain taught you."

"Well, not exactly taught me," Oliver grinned, absently stroking Bill's hair. "Or rather, he didn't know he was teaching me." The grin widened as Oliver realised fully what had happened. Bill was _jealous_. Oliver enjoyed it, certainly, but wasn't willing to let Bill suffer longer than necessary. "I was very good," he whispered, "at being in places I perhaps shouldn't have been in, and hearing things not intended for my ears." He couldn't stop the soft laugh, but he tried. "I promise, you're the only Weasley I ever wanted. Charlie was telling someone else."

Bill relaxed against Oliver and laughed nervously. "Well, that's good, I reckon," he said, kissing Oliver's neck. "I'd hate to have to kill my favourite brother for touching you first. Especially since you couldn't've been more than fourteen at the time, and even _I'm_ not that much of a pervert."

"Neither is he," Oliver said. "You were the first person to ever touch me, except myself." He laughed again and stretched under Bill. "God, you make me feel brilliant. And hungry." Oliver wrapped himself around Bill and squeezed. "I made sandwiches, love, are you hungry too?"

"Sandwiches are always better when someone else makes them for you," Bill said seriously, and then snickered against Oliver's neck, nuzzling Oliver's jaw.

Oliver rolled his eyes but lifted his face into Bill's touch. "Anything else you want to ask me?" Oliver turned enough to brush his lips over Bill's. "Since we're talking."

Bill shook his head slightly, and kissed Oliver back. "Nothing I can think of, baby," he murmured, moving up and kissing the tip of Oliver's nose. "But you can ask me, too, you know."

"I know," Oliver said softly. He lifted an eyebrow, his fingers playing with Bill's hair. "Is there anything I should ask?"

"I did a lot before you, Ollie," Bill said gently, lifting his hand and cupping Oliver's face, thumb brushing back and forth gently. "And when... when I lost you." He sighed, eyes drooping at the corners but still holding Oliver's gaze.

Oliver's lips curved down. He wasn't sure he wanted to know, but Bill was here, _his_ , so in the end it didn't matter. Or shouldn't. "You don't have to tell me," he murmured. "If you don't want to."

Bill laughed wryly, and mostly at himself. "What I don't want," he said, mouth twisting in what really wasn't a grin, "is for you to feel like you can't ask, baby." He kissed Oliver again, whispering against his lips, "Yours, Oliver."

"Mine," Oliver agreed. "So tell me." His tongue darted out to flick at Bill's lips. "Not before me," he added wryly. He honestly didn't want to know that part. It definitely didn't matter. But something about the way Bill had said _when I lost you_... "And not the faceless ones between us before and now, either. Just the one who mattered." He swallowed, voice a bit rougher as he finished, "Or ones. Who mattered." Oliver mustered a smile, small but sincere. "I already know about Nigel."

Feeling like he should probably roll away, give Oliver a bit of space, Bill just shifted and settled, sprawling over Oliver's solid, if shorter body. Bill needed the closeness, the press of their skin together, like they were as near to one person as they could get. Especially if he was going to be doing this.

"There's only ever been two that mattered," he said, tucking his face against Oliver's neck. "One from before, the first..." he paused, clearing his throat. Still, when he continued, Bill's voice was uneven, uncertain. "And one, when I found out about your bloke. I missed you so much, love. And he looked so much like you."

Oliver's breath caught and he closed his eyes. _He looked so much like you._ "I missed you too," he whispered, turning his head slightly into Bill's forehead, trying to be closer. "I love you."

Bill hummed quietly, bringing one hand up to toy with the leather thong around Oliver's neck that matched the one around Bill's. "I love you, too," he breathed, and then sighed. "But somehow, I doubt you were so bad off you paid someone to pretend to be me."

" _What?_ " Oliver shifted down, cupped Bill's face, pressed their foreheads together. "You didn't." Oliver didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Or if he quite believed it. "Bill?"

"It seemed like a good idea at the time," Bill just muttered, trying to look away, not that he really could with Oliver this close. "Although I could have lived without him trying to tell me to get you back after. Was downright weird, you know?"

Oliver couldn't help the grin slowly spreading. "He didn't." He bit his lip against a laugh.

Bill rolled his eyes. "He _did_." But then he smiled softly, and cupped the side of Oliver's face. "Of course, he'd figured out I was arse over teakettle for you before I'd even gotten my kit off..."

"I think having him pretend to be me may have been a large clue," Oliver said. "It seemed like a good idea at the time. Where have I heard that before?" Oliver cocked an eyebrow and nuzzled Bill's nose with his own. "You get such strange ideas when you're drunk." He laughed softly, then sobered. "There's no one anything like you. I might have paid someone, if there had been." Oliver paused and then continued slowly, "Terence is nothing like you."

"I might have been drunk," Bill admitted, "but he still wasn't really enough like you. Not as fit, not as gorgeous." He pushed up and kissed the tip of his nose. "And he tasted all wrong. The whole thing was all wrong, really, but it made me face that I needed _you_ , baby." He grinned crookedly. "And not just your arse that's enough to make a grown man cry, either."

Oliver blushed slowly, the colour spreading over cheeks and throat and chest. "Well," he said faintly. "Fit anyway. Have to be." He recovered a bit, and grinned. "Maybe I should send him a thank you note." His eyes drifted over Bill's face. He knew he'd never get tired of just _looking_ at Bill. "So that's the one between," Oliver said as he cupped Bill's face. "What about the one before?"

"The first bloke," Bill said, leaning into Oliver's touch. Somehow, having Oliver here, now, to hear this made it all so much more distant and less painful than before, and Bill smiled, if a bit sadly, before going on. "He was a bloody awful fuck, but I fancied myself in love with him, even if I was just fifteen and he two years ahead and us sneaking off when we could. So I told him I loved him on the last day of school..." Bill closed his eyes remembering how sure of himself he'd been, positive he was loved back. "And he laughed at me for being such a stupid kid." He opened his eyes and pinned Oliver with a steady, serious gaze, remembered heart break and ruined fantasy right there for him to see. "I always wanted you to have it easier than I did."

It explained so much. Oliver leaned in, kissed Bill slowly, putting everything he felt, everything he _was_ into the play of lips and tongue. "I love you so much," he finally breathed.

"Love you too," Bill whispered between kisses, and then moved along Oliver's jaw, down his neck, tasting salt and sex and sweat and Oliver, teeth grazing over Oliver's Adam's apple. "And I think I probably always will," he added, kissing Oliver's pendant, then his collar bone, nibbling delicately on Oliver's skin. "Love how you taste, too," he added, grinning as he kissed down Oliver's chest, flicking his tongue against the younger man's nipple, teasing it gently into a hard little bud.

"Probably?" Oliver said, aiming for as dry a tone as he could but instead sounding merely breathless. His fingers tightened in Bill's hair and his eyes drifted nearly shut as he moaned very softly.

Bill grinned and moved over to give Oliver's other nipple the same treatment. "In that the moon will _probably_ rise tonight," he explained, teeth catching on sensitive flesh. "And that I'll _probably_ have to introduce you to my family as the bloke I love."

"Probably," Oliver breathed again, affirmation instead of teasing question this time. "Do they, _oh_ , do they know you're queer?" Oliver shifted to curl a leg around Bill and tug him closer, fighting to stay focussed on their conversation, if only just enough to follow it. Pleasure was slowly rolling through him again, already, breath deepening as his head spun.

"They will," Bill murmured, kissing down, tonguing at Oliver's navel slowly, lazily. "Perce knows, figured it out. Knows about us, too, since someone told him about us snogging in public at the Cup." Settled between Oliver's legs, Bill nipped at the firm, rippled plane of Oliver's abdomen.

The muscles contracted sharply under Bill's teeth and Oliver made a needy, gasping sound in the back of his throat before he froze. "Wait, what? Percy knows? But your family _doesn't_?" Part of Oliver wanted to push Bill away long enough to make him explain, which explanation would do no good at the moment, not with all the blood gone out of his brain to head further south. Then again... "Never mind. Later. Tell me later, just, please? Please, Bill, suck me."

"All part of the plan, gorgeous," Bill murmured, nosing up the length of Oliver's cock, following after with his mouth and parting his lips to swallow around Oliver, all the way down. Humming roughly, Bill sucked and bobbed his head slowly, loving the taste of Oliver's earlier orgasm. He reached down and hefted Oliver's testicles in one hand, rolling them gently, squeezing ever so slightly as he sucked just a bit harder. Bill's other hand curled heavy over Oliver's hip, holding him in place and keeping Oliver from pushing up too much, from making things _fasterhardernow_.

Oliver tried pushing up against Bill's hand and tugged lightly at long red hair. Bill always wanted to take things so _slow_ , and it drove Oliver insane. He himself had no control, no internal monitors or limits; he just let go and was instantly lost to Bill's touch. He gasped for air, trying not to need quite so much. " _Bill._ "

Bill lifted his head, slowly sliding his lips up, tongue dragging and tasting as he let Oliver's cock go with a wet sound. "S'all right, baby," he crooned, hand curling around Oliver's length, stroking him slowly. "I've got you, let me get you," he went on, kissing the column of wet, hard flesh, damn near purring because he loved to make Oliver shatter like this, loved that his own recent orgasm kept him back enough to enjoy watching it all. "Let me make love to you, Ollie-boy. I promise to catch you."

"I know," Oliver whimpered, "I know." And he did. Bill always caught him. It occurred to Oliver, faintly and in the back of his mind, that he trusted Bill completely, and then the pleasure rolled his mind again and he stopped thinking altogether. "Anything you want, Bill, just don't ever stop."

Hand tightening, Bill kissed the inside of Oliver's thigh, tongue flickering out to taste the warmth there. "Love how you break for me, gorgeous," he said, low and promising, and then parted his lips, sucking hard around the crown of Oliver's cock. Tongue swirling and cheeks hollowing, Bill kept his hand around Oliver's shaft, kept him from pushing deeper. He groaned quietly, and let his teeth scrape, just once, and then sucked again, free hand gripping Oliver's strong thigh, squeezing and caressing.

Oliver cried out, fought not to buck up, into the pleasure. "Only for you," he moaned. "God, what you _do_ to me." Oliver's hands cupped Bill's head, fingers flexing against his skull. He curled one leg around Bill, sliding skin over skin. He hadn't thought he could come again this soon, get hard again this fast, but damn if he wasn't on the brink again already. "Please, I can't..."

Bill hummed, an encouraging sound, and looked up at Oliver through his pale red lashes. Fuck, but he was amazing like this; lost and bare, overwhelmed and clinging, and Bill could feel his own cock stirring just from it. Oliver was just so much of everything, and Bill could happily drown in him for the rest of his life. Huffing a breath through his nose at the fanciful thought, Bill let go with both of his hands and relaxed his jaw to let Oliver move, let him fuck Bill's mouth all he wanted until he came.

The hum vibrated along Oliver's cock and he whimpered, and broke. He didn't realise Bill had let go, only that he could finally move, his hips pushing up, pushing his cock into the dark wet warmth of Bill's mouth. "Bill," he moaned, "god, Bill." His leg hitched up higher around Bill and his hand dropped from Bill's hair so he could reach under himself. Oliver found his hole and shoved one dry finger in, hissing with the pleasure. He made a soft warning sound, tugged at Bill's hair with his free hand, unable to even find the words to tell Bill he was going to come _now_.

The noises Oliver was making were so fucking perfect, so unbelievably _hot_ just like they always were, and Bill growled softly around Oliver's length. He pushed his hand under Oliver's arse and slid two fingers into him, one on either side of Oliver's own, and moved them hard, fucking Oliver like that as Oliver fucked his mouth. _Come for me, baby_ , he thought, looking up at the blissed-out expression on Oliver's face that might be bordering on agony as he held on, so close to coming that Bill could feel Oliver swelling even more between his lips. _Come on_.

Oliver came. His lungs seized as his mouth opened on a soundless scream, his body arching up into Bill's mouth again and again. The pleasure rolled through him and he lost track of time, of everything except Bill and the way Bill made him feel, and need, and break.

Bill swallowed, fingers pulling free and both hands cradling Oliver, petting him soothingly as he shook. Slowly, Bill eased off as Oliver calmed and softened, lapping gently, nuzzling and then Bill smiled as he kissed Oliver's hip once. "So gorgeous," he murmured, sliding up Oliver's shaking body and curving over his side. "So amazing, Ollie."

Turning into Bill, Oliver slid his arms around him and pressed close. "Bill," he sighed. He nuzzled his nose into the crook of Bill's neck. "Oh, wow." He closed his eyes and smiled lazily. "You're brilliant, you know? No one ever made me feel like you do."

At that, Bill couldn't help but grin smugly. "No one could know you like I do, of _course_ ," he said, tucking Oliver closer and laughing softly. "S'why you're mine, Ollie-boy."

"And only yours," Oliver agreed. He yawned, shifted against Bill just to feel the slide of their skin together. "Love you."

"Love you, too, pet," Bill murmured, one hand smoothing up and down Oliver's spine. "Only you."

"Damn straight," Oliver mumbled. " _Mine._ " He had a sudden picture of Bill's arse, tattooed with the words _Property of Oliver Wood_ , and it nearly made him laugh. He fell asleep with a wide grin on his face.

**Author's Note:**

>  _In retrospect, some of this might seem to imply past Weasleycest, but that was never the case in this 'verse. No Weasleycest at all and in fact, Charlie's actually straight (if a little bit kinky). Obi says she's tempted now and again to change things around so it's more clear, but this is how it has always read from the first posting back in 2007, and it seems silly to try and change things now._


End file.
